Definition
by Elennare
Summary: ""There's one passage I remember particularly," Natasha said, gazing into her coffee. "Aragorn was talking about Eowyn, describing her as a lily - maybe made of steel, or maybe frozen to ice. It felt… fitting." She met Laura's eyes now, challenging her to answer."
**Content notes** : set pre-Avengers. For the 'metal' challenge at **fan_flashworks**. Also for the 'choices' prompt at **halfamoon** , and the 'Curtain Fic' square of my trope_bingo card.
 **Author notes** : 'metal' reminded me of Aragorn's description of Eowyn, which made me think of Natasha, which led to this fic!

* * *

"I'm glad to have your help getting ready for the move, Nat. Clint's no good at packing, when we moved here half the plates were cracked when we arrived! Honestly, what do they teach superspies about packing these days?" Laura asked, grinning.

"Take anything identifying or useful, in that order, leave the rest," Natasha replied seriously. When Laura turned to look at her, she added, "Not really a priority in training! Not in mine, at least, and S.H.I.E.L.D. hasn't seen the need to remedy that. You wanted to start with the books?"

Laura nodded, letting the moment pass as Natasha clearly wished. Balancing easily on a stepladder, Natasha began taking books from the high shelf and handing them down to Laura, who slotted them into boxes.

"Let's have a break, I'm dying for a coffee," Laura said eventually, closing a box, then looked up. "Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to leave you holding 'The Lord of the Rings'! Pass it down, I know what a weight it is."

Natasha handed the book over over and stepped down. "I read that once," she volunteered. "Cultural training."

"What did you think of it?" Laura asked.

"Whatever it was useful to think," Natasha replied, with a shrug.

Despite the apparent brush-off, however, Laura felt that she might have more to say about it. Natasha didn't speak much about her Red Room days to anyone, except perhaps Clint, but Laura had learnt to read the comments she dropped. The self-deprecation that characterized something she was, in some twisted way, still proud of; the light nonchalance of some terrible fact dropped in to startle, to horrify, to test a listener's commitment; the matter-of-fact manner of trivial details that Laura still treasured, used to build the picture; rarest of all, the way her voice would drop to the lowest whisper when she let herself show pain.

That particular shrug was one Laura had catalogued as the 'still deciding whether I want to say any more' shrug. So she made the coffee in silence, waiting for her friend to speak, either to continue or to change the subject; experience had shown it was the best way to get her to volunteer information. Sure enough, as she took the steaming mug, Natasha spoke again.

"There's one passage I remember particularly," she said, gazing into her coffee. "Aragorn was talking about Eowyn, describing her as a lily - maybe made of steel, or maybe frozen to ice. It felt… fitting." She met Laura's eyes now, challenging her to answer.

"Which description fitted?" Laura asked quietly. Cautious. Don't push too far, but don't stay too far back either.

The corners of Natasha's lips twitched up, but there was no real humour there. "Depends when you ask me. Which do you think?"

"I think… I think you'd do better to look at how Eowyn defines herself."

Now Natasha did laugh. " _Shield_ maiden? And I thought Clint was the one who made dreadful puns!"

Laura half groaned, half laughed. "That wasn't what I meant! No, I mean, she defines who she is. She chooses to be a warrior, then chooses to be a healer. A person, not a flower."

Natasha nodded thoughtfully. "Definition by choice… that wasn't something I had much of, back then. Not until Clint made the call he did, and even that wasn't my choice."

"Clint chose to try to bring you in, but you chose to come," Laura argued. "You chose to stay."

"Chose to be a shieldmaiden?" Natasha asked, smirking, and Laura groaned again.

"You and Clint are as bad as each other!"

"It's why we get along," Natasha said with a laugh. "Come on, let's finish packing those books."

Laura nodded and stood up, recognising that Natasha had said all she wished to for the moment. She stored away everything, though, to re-examine it later. Natasha was always a puzzle, layers upon layers, so every insight was a treasure. Steel, ice… both could fit Natasha, could fit the girl-made-weapon she had been forced to be, but she was so much more than either. Laura saw that, even if Natasha didn't always see it herself.

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End note: the full quote about Eowyn is " When I first looked on her and perceived her unhappiness, it seemed to me that I saw a white flower standing straight and proud, shapely as a lily, and yet knew that it was hard, as if wrought by elf-wrights out of steel. Or was it, maybe, a frost that had turned its sap to ice, and so it stood, bitter-sweet, still fair to see, but stricken, soon to fall and die?"


End file.
